


You Can Leave Your Hat On

by RaeDMagdon



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: Cowgirl, F/F, Fingering, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Possession, Strap-Ons, literally there's a hat, the baes have psychological issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-21
Updated: 2017-07-21
Packaged: 2018-12-05 04:40:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11570517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RaeDMagdon/pseuds/RaeDMagdon
Summary: But that isn't part of the plan. Waverly wants... no, she needs more. Needs Nicole to understand that this is her choice. That she might be broken, but all the broken bits are human, and the shards aren't so fine they can't be pieced together again. Nicole can't mend something she's afraid of shattering.





	You Can Leave Your Hat On

**Author's Note:**

> So @charcharcrap drew a sexy Wayhaught drawing. A VERY sexy Wayhaught drawing.
> 
> I tried to write a fic for it, but then I had *feelings* about it. Apparently, angst and cowgirl roleplay go together in my mind.
> 
> Follow @raedmagdon on tumblr for more.

The first time Nicole made love to her after it… Mikshun… left, it was all tender kisses and sweet words. “I see you, baby,” Nicole had murmured into Waverly’s hair that afternoon, even though she was the one crying. “I see you.”

And then Waverly had wept too, because even though she was happy—even though it was an utter relief to be free of the thousand tiny claws and the fork-tongued whispers—it reminded her of what she had lost. (Before all this, Nicole had never hesitated to touch her after being granted permission. Now, she flinches away like she's crossed an unspeakable boundary, withdrawing her hands when she thinks Waverly won't notice.)

That’s what brings them to now. To this moment. A moment where Waverly is staring down at Nicole—who is stitch stark naked except for a plain black sports bra and the Stetson on her head—with what she hopes Nicole recognizes as honest hunger.

Judging by the flash of heat in Nicole’s gentle brown eyes, Waverly’s pretty sure her message is coming through loud and clear.

“Baby,” Nicole rasps, her voice breathy with want, but Waverly holds up her hand.

“Wait. Just wait.”

She wants—she _needs—_ to make her case. To show Nicole that each decision, down to the smallest of all, is all hers. To prove just how willing she is.

Waverly doesn’t blush as she rolls her tank top up and over her head. She doesn’t shiver as she unfastens her bra. She simply she let it fall, showing Nicole the flush creeping down from her collarbone to the stiff pink peaks of her breasts.

Maybe she would have done those things a few weeks ago, but not anymore. She’s done being shy, done with all the squirmy shame and doubt. Her feelings, her desires, her choices, are crystal clear now. They’re _hers_ , damn it, and heaven help anyone who tries to take them away.

When Waverly’s bra hits the floor, Nicole gasps. It’s only a quiet hitch of breath, but to Waverly, it’s an angel’s chorus. She relishes the little signs that Nicole wants her, the physical proof that their sexual connection hasn’t been tainted.

That’s why, even though her panties are soaked, Waverly takes her time shimmying out of them. She watches Nicole’s eyes as she peels the waistband down, making sure they follow every sway of her hips. She needs Nicole to know, to understand…

When Nicole blurts out, “My god, you're beautiful,” Waverly almost forgets her goal. She’s pretty sure—no, she’s certain Nicole isn't thinking about Mikshun, or that other Waverly, or anything to do with demons right now. She has Nicole’s full attention centered between her legs, and she wants to keep it that way.

Waverly smirks, crawling onto the bed and over Nicole’s lap. Her gaze flicks down, stealing a glance at the join of Nicole’s thighs. She wonders if Nicole is as wet as she is, whether Nicole feels the same deep-seated ache that she does. It's a ‘yes’, she already knows, but that doesn't stop her from wanting to feel for herself.

“Beautiful, huh?” she asks, running her palm up along Nicole’s thigh. Legs like Nicole’s should be illegal, all that lean muscle packed under a soft layer of padding. “What's beautiful about me?”

Nicole stammers, tongue-tied. Waverly suspects it’s less that she doesn't know what to say, and more like she wants to list everything at once. “Your hands,” she blurts out, her voice sticking between the words.

Waverly stops the path of her fingers, still an inch short of her goal, and waits.

“They touch me like I’m made of gold.”

It’s an adorable thing to say—completely Nicole.

Waverly’s heart melts. “What else?” she asks, cupping between Nicole’s thighs and…

Oh. _Oh._ She was expecting wetness, but not a river already.

Nicole’s hips twitch, straining toward her fingers. “Your eyes,” she mumbles, sucking her bottom lip between her teeth.

Waverly strokes Nicole’s clit in slow circles, pressing down on the root, barely grazing the tip. There’s so much slickness, a slippery coat of silk that makes each pass smooth. “What about my eyes?”

A shudder races along Nicole’s abdomen, making the ridges there tense for just a moment. “They… they’ve got _you_ in them.”

Nicole looks up, pleading with her to understand, and Waverly smiles because she does. It’s not the makeup or the shape or the color. It’s something more, something real.

“What else?” She stretches her body on top of Nicole’s, sighing at the brush of skin on skin. The fabric of Nicole’s bra is ticklish against her nipples, but their stomachs, their hips, their thighs slide together like one flesh.

Nicole bucks, just once, but enough to make Waverly’s fingers slip a little lower. “Your lips,” she groans, licking her own and parting them hopefully. “Your taste. Waves, I missed your taste so mu—umm…”

Waverly dips the tip of her finger past Nicole’s entrance. She doesn’t want Nicole to think about missing her. She’s right here, right now, and that other Waverly’s in the past. (Maybe when Nicole starts to forget, she finally can too.)

To prove it, she takes Nicole’s mouth in a deep kiss—not rough, but hot and wet and open. Nicole is all too eager to suck her tongue, all too willing to rock against her hand and take her finger deeper, one centimeter at a time.

But that isn't part of the plan. Waverly wants... no, she _needs_ more. Needs Nicole to understand that this is her choice. That she might be broken, but all the broken bits are human, and the shards aren't so fine they can't be pieced together again. Nicole can't mend something she's afraid of shattering.

Waverly withdraws her hand, trailing her wet fingertips up along Nicole's stomach. They climb higher and higher, and Nicole's breath comes faster and faster, until Waverly is pressing into her sternum.The fabric of Nicole’s bra is an obstacle, one Waverly doesn't have the patience to deal with. She continues upward, stroking Nicole's warm cheek, admiring the flush of her skin and the way her choppy red hair clings to her forehead beneath her Stetson.

The bra is too much trouble to take off, but Waverly can do something about the hat. As good as Nicole looks wearing it, she wants to be able to see her lover’s face without a shadow falling over it. She lifts the Stetson off Nicole's head, smirking as she places it on her own. If that little gesture doesn't push back the darkness, nothing will.

Nicole's eyes widen in surprise, then go cloudy with lust. A grin spreads across her face, and Waverly knows Nicole is in this moment with her, relaxed and present and at peace. Well, maybe relaxed isn't the right word. Her body is trembling, and there's still plenty of slickness clinging to her thighs.

“You look better in that than I do,” Nicole moans, in a tone that almost suggests it's unfair.

Waverly takes a deep breath. “Well, you know what they say about cowgirls.”

“If she's smiling, she's thinking about doing something crazy?”

“No,” she says, leaning sideways to open the nightstand beside her bed. She pulls out the next phase of her plan, the final piece that will prove to Nicole how much she wants this.

When Nicole catches sight of the silicone strap-on and harness, she lets out a burst of laughter. “You didn't,” she chuckles, although her smile says she's glad Waverly did.

“The internet is a thing,” Waverly says, setting the shaft on Nicole's stomach. Its surface jumps when the cool material makes contact, so she soothes some of the chill with her hand. “Are you mad?” she asks when Nicole’s smile starts to fade.

“No…”

Waverly waits for Nicole to ask whether _she_ was really the one who bought it, but the question never comes.

“I'm not mad. Just… surprised?”

“You shouldn't be. You know what they _actually_ say about us cowgirls…” Waverly inserts the appropriate beat, hoping the humor comes through. “We all know how to ride.”

A brief shadow falls across Nicole’s face, one that has nothing to do with the hat this time. “You don’t have to do this to prove a point,” she whispers, a worry line wrinkling her forehead.

“I’m not,” Waverly insists, but then she falters a little. Other-Waverly might have been able to lie, but she can’t. To some people, maybe, but not to Nicole. Not anymore. “It's not _just_ to prove a point.”

To banish all doubt, Waverly takes Nicole’s hand in hers, guiding it between her legs and letting her body speak for itself.

Nicole’s softened expression is all Waverly could hope for. The wrinkle on her forehead disappears, and her face takes on a fresh glow. Waverly recognizes it for what it is. Pride—the same pride she feels whenever she does something that makes Nicole melt.

But Nicole isn’t melting now. She’s all business as she scoots back to give herself more room and brings the strap-on between her legs. Waverly’s relieved Nicole seems to know what she’s doing. It’s been nice having control up to now, but she doesn’t have experience with this, and the whole point is to get the two of them comfortable with give and take again. She watches in awe as the shorter end of the toy sinks into Nicole’s body, through the wetness _she_ made, and disappears.

Nicole’s clit is hidden behind the toy’s saddle. Instead, a thick shaft stands tall between her thighs, not quite a match for her pale freckled skin, but pretty darn close. It’s smooth, and some of Nicole’s body heat must have bled into it, because when Waverly wraps her hand around the base, it’s not cold anymore.

Waverly’s exploratory side takes over as she tests Nicole’s sensitivity. Her first curious stroke has too much friction, but that’s an easy fix. She dips her fingers between her own legs, getting them nice and slippery, and tries again. This time her passage is smoother, and pumping her fist produces a reaction. Nicole moans and rocks forward, seeking more pressure.

“Waves, baby,” Nicole mumbles. The words are involuntary, Waverly can tell, but somehow that makes them sexier. This is exactly what she wants—to drive Nicole so crazy there's no more room for worry. She strokes the shaft again, then again, learning that when she angles the seat into Nicole’s clit, the sounds she gets are sweeter.

She’s so wrapped up in the thrill of discovery that she almost forgets her original goal—until Nicole bracelets her wrist in a silent plea for her to stop. Waverly does, searching Nicole’s face for any signs of hesitation, but there are none. Only burning need, exactly like she hoped.

“Harness,” Nicole murmurs.

It’s slipped off next to Nicole’s side, so Waverly grabs it and tries to untangle the black velcro straps. Once more, Nicole takes over, turning it right way round and putting her legs through the holes while Waverly hovers out of the way. After a short but painful wait, the harness is in place. It hides a little more of Nicole’s flesh, but there’s something sexy about the way the straps cling to her thighs, sitting snug around the muscles there.

Best of all, Waverly thinks, the extra security means she can ride as hard as she wants.

Mounting up isn’t as hard as she’d thought it might be. The strap-on doesn’t have as much flexibility as flesh, but there’s enough give to tilt it the way she wants it. There’s a brief slip the first time she guides the tip to her entrance, and Waverly huffs quietly in annoyance, but she sticks the landing on the second try. The blunt head sinks inside, only an inch to start, but that’s enough to keep it stable.

Nicole must feel the change in pressure, because her hips give the slightest possible push. It’s not even a thrust, but it sends a surge of heat through Waverly’s core. She swallows a whine, looking down at the shaft between her legs. She’s dripping all over it, covering the first few inches with shiny ribbons of slick.

The decision to slide down is instinctive. She doesn’t hold her breath or think about it first. It’s just a slight sting, then a deep stretch, and then her body blossoms open and—oh, Criminy, how is she supposed to keep from coming long enough to _move?_ Just being filled feels _so_ good, so right, and it has nothing to do with the strap-on and everything to do with the woman beneath her. The rake of Nicole’s eyes along her body is a scorching caress, and the warmth of Nicole’s skin sets her own on fire.

“Wow,” Waverly breathes, staring down at Nicole in wide-eyed wonder.

Nicole’s eyes gaze back up into hers, reflecting the exact same emotion. “Wow.”

There’s an ‘I love you’ somewhere in there, one that doesn’t need to be spoken in order to be understood. Then Nicole gives her hips a tentative push, nudging a spot inside of Waverly that sends shooting pulses of pleasure through her pelvis and up along her spine. Waverly gasps, then groans, placing both palms on Nicole’s shoulders and pinning them to the mattress. She wants Nicole to fuck her, but not yet. Not until neither of them can stand to wait another moment.

She moves her hips in circles at first, a light stirring motion so she can feel the shaft rub against her walls at every angle. Nicole tenses beneath her, and Waverly can tell she’s fighting not to thrust. The sight of all that quivering restraint coaxes Waverly to move faster, more deliberately, until instead of rocking back and forth, she lifts a few inches and slides back down again. She’ll get Nicole to let go of the fear she’s holding, no matter how much coaxing it takes.

(Because she’s too weak to be the first one to let go of it. She’ll make herself okay by making sure Nicole’s okay.)

The faster she rides, the better it gets. Waverly’s clit throbs hard, twitching against the air, until she tilts to rub it against Nicole’s lower belly. Her inner muscles flutter around the thick length of the toy, trying to seal it in, to draw it even deeper. Nicole’s Stetson, which is a size too big, slips down her head to cover her eyes. Nicole reaches to fix it at the same time, and their hands brush.

Their fingers lace together automatically.

Waverly clutches Nicole’s hand tight as she tries the new trick again. Her need is rising quicker than she was expecting, and each time she sinks down onto Nicole, her body shudders. But the relief is only temporary. The stirring within her is only satisfied by movement, and even though she aches with every awful inch that slips out, the waves of bliss that take her when those same wonderful inches slide home again are worth the loss.

This time, when Nicole bucks upward to join in the rhythm, Waverly doesn’t stop her. She presses their linked hands onto Nicole’s chest for balance, holds the brim of the hat with the other, and rides like she means it. Like nothing in the world, not even a demon, not even a whole _host_ of demons, can stop her.

Waverly’s hips churn without pausing. Sweat runs down the middle of her back, and the muscles in her core clench, helping maintain her balance as she rolls on top of Nicole’s body. She isn’t sure whether she’s riding anymore or being ridden, but it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters but Nicole, Nicole filling her, Nicole surging up to clutch her hips and draw the tip of her breast into a warm, welcoming mouth and—

The change in position and the hot tongue circling her nipple is too much. After the first stroke, Waverly tightens, fisting a handful of Nicole’s thick red hair and shouting in surprise as she tumbles over the edge. She isn’t supposed to come first—some dim part of her remembers that—but it’s too late for ‘supposed to’. She’s already there, falling… no, _flying_ as Nicole hits a spot deep within her that opens up heaven’s next great flood.

Waverly trembles in Nicole’s arms, whimpering with each contraction, pulling Nicole’s head up and blindly seeking her mouth until the sweet lips she’s looking for find hers. She drinks from Nicole like she’s dying, spilling moans between each hungry kiss, rolling her hips in uneven patterns. Nicole lets her, but this time, there are no soothing words. Instead, she sinks her teeth into Waverly’s bottom lip, no hint of hesitation at all.

The slight edge of pain is enough to send Waverly into another shuddering spiral. Only one thought shines strong enough to pierce the fog: _Please. Please know I want you. All of me wants you. Please don’t forget that—don’t_ ever _forget that._

Waverly winds her arms around Nicole’s neck, rising and falling frantically. She ignores the pulsing streams that run down both their thighs every time the shaft slips out, struggling to find a pace that will bring Nicole over with her. It’s almost impossible to control her movements while Nicole is buried inside her, fucking the sense right out of her, but when Nicole breaks away from her lips and breathes a broken groan right beside her ear, Waverly seizes her chance. She latches her teeth onto the side of Nicole’s neck, taking her to the hilt and squeezing hard.

A sharp, unsteady jerk of Nicole’s hips tells Waverly she’s succeeded. Nicole groans again, softly at first, but the sound grows steadily until she’s shouting to the ceiling. Beneath her, Waverly can feel Nicole’s bunched abdomen flexing, and the subtle movement is enough to widen the ripples of her own release. She isn’t sure whether she’s coming again or just can’t _stop_ coming, but white spots float in front of her eyes each time Nicole grinds into her, trying to push deeper even though there’s nowhere left to go.

By the time their movements slow to a standstill, both of them are shivering with exhaustion. Waverly unlocks her jaw, feeling a surge of sympathy when she sees the bright purple bruise she’s left in the crook of Nicole’s neck. She places a kiss there, a silent apology, but Nicole doesn’t seem to mind. Her hum is nothing but content as she leans back on the bed, bringing Waverly along with her.

Cradled just beneath Nicole’s chin, Waverly can see her lover’s mouth try and move, but no words come out. The only sound is their mingled breathing and the loud thump of Nicole’s heart beneath her ear. Since Nicole can’t seem to speak, Waverly says, “Um, so, was that okay?”

That’s when she knows for sure she’s back to her old self. Same old Waverly, same old deep-rooted insecurities about impressing other people—even her girlfriend, who is currently sheathed inside her, eyes glazed over in post-orgasmic bliss. But this time, there aren’t any voices to repeat the stray thoughts. There are no dark whispers to confirm her worst fears. Her worries slip away, and instead of hearing her own worst thoughts in an echo chamber, she can see reality.

Waverly can see the happiness in Nicole’s mouth, puffy from kissing and smudged with the wrong color of lipstick, as it curves into a smile.

Waverly can see the flash of tender amusement in Nicole’s eyes.

Waverly can feel the love in Nicole’s hands as they roam up and down her back, rubbing circles between her shoulders.

“Baby,” Nicole sighs, shaking her head in disbelief, “you’re _incredible._ That’s a 90 point performance if I ever saw one.”

Waverly snorts. City-girl Nicole’s never even been to a real rodeo, as far as she knows. “You Googled that, didn’t you? You dork.”

Nicole just grins. “Been saving it for a whole week. And it takes a dork to know one.”

“Okay, true. But why 90 points? Why not 100?”

“Hmm…” Nicole takes hold of Waverly’s waist, flipping the two of them over. A fresh spark flashes in Waverly’s belly, and she gasps, wrapping both legs around Nicole’s hips. “You got full marks for your ride, but your bull wasn’t giving it their all.”

Waverly takes the hat that’s fallen onto the pillow and returns it to its rightful place on Nicole’s head. “Well… I’ve always been an overachiever,” she purrs, digging her heels into Nicole’s rear.

Her last thought of Mikshun, before Nicole drives its name and every other name and word from her mind, is that the poor demon never really stood a chance. When Nicole is on top of her like this, kissing her like this, filling her like this, _loving_ her like this… well, there just isn’t room for anyone else.


End file.
